Satellite
by SerenePhocidae
Summary: Cress finds herself trapped in a nightmare.


"Hey Cress," Thorne poked his head around the door of Cress's compartment. "Do you think you'd make it through another couple days of local food here? There's still some stuff I'd like to double check with the mechanic, and you know we ate the last of the canned stuff last week."

She glanced up from where she was sitting on the bed, scrolling through newsfeeds on her portscreen, to throw a grin at him. "I survived your takeoffs and landings, didn't I? Seeing as _those_ didn't kill me, I don't think a few more local meals will."

Thorne's expression morphed into one of someone highly offended. "What are you talking about? My landings are perfect! Just because I have a little fun on the way down doesn't make them 'bad'!"

A giggle combined with a snort escaped her mouth. "You didn't deny anything about the takeoffs."

Pouting, he entered the room fully, and she was distracted for a moment when she noticed the way his shirtsleeves were shoved up past his elbows. "I thought you loved me, and here you are insulting my flying."

Cress could do nothing but blush and force her gaze back down to stare at her portscreen, attempting to ignore the pitifully betrayed look he was sending her.

Suddenly hands plucked her portscreen away, and she was staring into shockingly bright blue eyes. "What," he said, a pout still on his face. "Do you have no faith in me?"

"I-" Her stuttering answer was cut off as the sulking look slid rapidly from his face, replaced by a devious grin. " _Thorne!"_ Escape was futile as his hands came to attack her stomach in a merciless round of tickling.

"You were saying about my flying skills?" He smirked as she gasped for breath.

"Yeah, yeah, they're amazing, I take it back!" She squeaked between bouts of laughter. "Now will you stop?"

Collapsing beside her, shaking with laughter as well, he nudged his face into the junction where her neck met her shoulder. "You're very ticklish, you know."

"I'm well aware!" Indignantly, Cress made to sit up, draw away from him, but in a flash the puppy dog eyes and pout were back. She sighed and relaxed again, reaching after a moment's hesitation to tangle her fingers with his. "Unfortunately I think I'm completely in love with you as well."

"Unfortunately?"

"Yeah, it means I can't seem to get mad at you for tickling me."

His head lifted so he could grin at her. "How could you ever get angry when you're looking at this face?"

She just groaned and pulled him closer, burying her face in his shirt to hide her blush. "Exactly."

Their breathing had slowed from the winded laughter to a heavier, calming rate. As Cress drifted off to sleep, she vaguely felt Thorne's arms slip around her waist and tighten; he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. Then her consciousness slipped and she was off to the land of dreams.

* * *

Cress woke slowly, wondering at why cool air surrounded her. Blinking in a drowsy manner, she reached for Throne, only to find empty space. Her fingers stretched out more and collided with a cold metal wall. She frowned. The Rampion hadn't been running when they'd fallen asleep; the comforting humming that usually vibrated through the bones of the ship hadn't been there before. Pressing her palm against the wall now, she felt a mechanical pulse beneath her hand. Thorne would have woken her if they were going to leave. Confused, Cress rolled over to get out of bed- and froze. The soft features of her room on the Rampion didn't greet her eyes. No, this wasn't her home at all. She gulped and stood in dread. Cress was back on the satellite.

The shock passed surprisingly quickly; Cress gasped like a fish out of water for only a few seconds before a rapid round of tears came and went. She shook her head, scrubbing her arm across her face to rid herself of the last few tears. A new thought struck. If she was here, on the satellite, then clearly some of Levana's surviving henchmen had taken her after deliberate planning; she and Thorne had crashed to Earth in her satellite. This must be a new model.

Thorne. Cress clapped a hand over her mouth. Her feet finally released the floor to dash through the meager amount of space in her prison. "Thorne?" The tiny bathroom was empty. " _Thorne!"_ She was screaming at nothing; no one was there to respond to her cries.

Panting, she spun in a circle. The others- she had to make sure they were okay. Her gaze fell on a wall of screens. Feet stumbled in the rush to get to them, fingers swiping instructions, pulling up the latest newsfeeds, weeding out any that didn't pertain to rouge Lunar violence. Carswell Thorne; her deft hands sent her search through space. A split second of waiting and then… Nothing. No results. Not once in her entire life had Cress found a search with no results. Feeling her thoughts beginning to flit away in a panic, she took a deep breath and released it slowly. She closed her eyes. She was not a damsel in distress. She wasn't trapped on a satellite. She was a spy, looking for someone hidden away.

"I am a spy," she whispered. "I am finding someone undercover to save the world."

Hours passed, search after search turning up nothing, loopholes leading to dead ends. Her lips became cracked from nervously licking them. Her neck ached from craning it to glimpse every speck of information before her. Her eyes began to blur, lids drooping. A quick shake of her head to clear it and she was off again. She had only a few more tricks left up her sleeve. And just as quickly as the dead end leads had shown up, suddenly _there._ A video someone had taken of a Class 11.3 214 Rampion. And if she zoomed in and squinted, she could see a spot where the paint was a slightly different color.

Cress grinned. She'd found him. Cinder's hurried cover-up of the naked lady painting hadn't been touched, giving that one patch of the ship's exterior a bit of discoloration. Her fingers flew, locking onto that video and using it to dig up a timeline, find where he was now. It was far more difficult than it should have been to find the information; someone had clearly tried to keep her off the trail. Cress allowed herself a triumphant smile. Whoever it was had no idea who they were dealing with.

A shout of elation escaped her mouth; she had a location. And with that location, she could find the ship's comm systems and hack into them. She had a way to contact Thorne. Breathlessly, her trembling fingers performed the last few commands. A whoosh of air escaped her lungs. "Captain?" She paused a moment. "Can you hear me?"

There was a long silence. Just as her heart was beginning to deflate, a crackle tore through the air. "Cress?" His voice was hoarse, stunned and hopeful. "Cress?"

He repeated her name a few times before she realized she hadn't responded. "I'm here! I'm here! Thorne-" her voice broke off in a sob.

" _Cress!_ " Now he sounded panicked. "Are you alright? Are you hurt? Cress talk to me!"

"N-no," she hiccupped, "I'm okay. I'm alright. I'm- I'm in the satellite."

"Uh… didn't we crash that into Earth?"

Cress gave a breathless half laugh through her tears. "Yes, but it appears they built a new one."

"Who's they?"

"I don't know. Whoever grabbed me, I guess. They had to have been loyal to Levana, or Sybil, otherwise they wouldn't have known about the satellite…" She paused for a moment, thinking. "And they knew I'd try to contact you because someone had tried to erase all traces of you from the net."

Thorne's grin was audible in his voice. "Well they clearly didn't know who they were dealing with."

A smile broke out tentatively. "Nope," she said. "However, as much as I hate to say this, I'm afraid this damsel is once again in distress. Well, only sort of."

"What, because she knows her knight is coming for her, and would start another revolution to get her back?"

"Nope."

"No?"

"Well, yes," she amended. "But mostly because this damsel can send her rescuer directions." A few touches to the screens in front of her, and her coordinates were zooming off to Thorne. "And she knows how to make him invisible until he gets to her."

His laugh came through the comms somewhat garbled, but still full and wonderful. "Aces, Cress. You're kind of terrifying sometimes, you know that?"

"I know," she smirked. "You've told me before."

"I've just entered the coordinates into navigation systems; I'll be there in a few hours or so. Hold on damsel, I'm on my way."

Cress sighed, then disconnected the link. It was going to take him a while, so she looked back at the screens and raised her hands. She might as well do some research on those Levana supporters while she had the time and the tech. "It's not like there's anything else to do," she muttered.

Cress was woken by the beeping of some kind of alert. Her gaze was drawn to a flashing light in the corner. "Proximity alarm," she muttered blearily, raising her head and shaking out limbs stiff from sleeping awkwardly in a chair. Energy suddenly sparked through her limbs; someone was nearing the satellite! Cress swiveled back to the screens, bringing up the link to the Rampion. "Captain?"

"Cress! Requesting permission to dock."

"Right, just a sec," her hands danced through the commands and the docking clamp extended. There was some clanging, mechanical sounds signifying successful docking. The beep that told her he was safely making his way from the Rampion to her. _The door._ Cress hurled herself out of her chair and leaped toward the entrance, anxiously awaiting its opening.

There was a hiss as the last obstacle was cleared, revealing-

"Crescent."

Cress froze.

"Have you completed your latest task?"

Her mouth was opening, but no words could force their way out.

Sybil glanced at the screens, screens that blatantly showed Cress's efforts of the last hours. She made a disapproving sound. "You know, I'm the only thing between you and Her Majesty's orders of execution. How do you think she'd feel if she knew about this… _unfortunate incident_?"

Dead. Sybil was dead. Cress had watched as Cinder had snapped her mind. Read the reports describing the body found in the gardens below that rooftop. Dead, dead, dead. Her mistress was _dead._

"You died," Cress said hoarsely. She didn't know how the speech made it through her windpipe; she was choking, her lungs didn't hold any air.

Another annoyed cluck. "What a terrible thing to say to the person you owe your life to."

"No," Cress was backing away, shaking her head rapidly. "Nonononono. You died. _You're dead!"_

Sybil had been advancing as Cress retreated, a look of rage growing on her face. As she passed the screens, she caught a closer glimpse of the last article Cress had been viewing. Her lip curled. "Really, Crescent? I thought you were smarter than that."

The page was titled 'Princess Selene: Secretly Shuttled Away to be Saved on Earth?' Cress whimpered.

"I'm not the one who's dead." Sybil was now sneering. "I know you can hack the feeds for all the security cameras in the palace. I know you were watching when poor little Princess Winter identified the body as Selene. It's a shame you weren't watching when Winter threw herself into the lake just two days later."

 _No._ This wasn't real, this wasn't real. She was dreaming. Any moment Thorne would wake her up and and tell her it was a dream, hold her until the last of the horrors were gone. She closed her eyes. Cinder was fine. Cinder and Scarlet and Winter and Iko. Wolf, Kai, Jacin. Thorne. They were all okay. She'd see them when she woke up.

Cress's eyes blinked open. Sybil was gripping her arm, hauling her to her feet from where she'd curled in on herself on the floor. She felt a great punch of shock to her stomach. The scene around her blurred, then cleared, an even more pristine image than before. "No…" she whispered again, weakly.

"Yes," Sybil snarled in her face. "Welcome back to reality, Crescent. Selene died in that fire, no matter how much you fantasize in your little head that she's alive and rebelling and rescuing you. Now, Her Majesty has a new set of orders for you. I expect only the best work."

A breath in. Out. Then- "Yes Mistress." One last longing glance at the newsfeeds on her screens. Then she took another breath and cleared them, bringing up only feeds related to the Crown and her tasks. The old feeds drifted away, to fade in the deep recesses of the forgotten parts of the net. Among them floating one article about a devastating crash. A Rampion, carrying a group of friends. Their pictures sat beside the text; a girl with impossibly red hair, a boy with messy black hair, a girl with blue braids, and another, older than the rest, with blue, blue eyes and sandy hair.

The images and words began to evaporate as lines of Lunar code and orders instead filled Cress's thoughts.

* * *

Author's Note: This is largely based off of an idea a friend wrote, so shout out to Elizabeth for basically causing this whole thing to exist! Also, constructive criticism is always very much appreciated.


End file.
